


A Moth, A Flame

by DistortedDaytime



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistortedDaytime/pseuds/DistortedDaytime
Summary: They don’t do niceties. They fight, they trade barbs, and when Bernd goes into heat, they fuck.or,Steno enemies-with-benefits and a twist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Steno fic, partly reposted from my Tumblr. I was on holiday and got deeply enamoured of them having sort-of hatesex in an ABO 'verse, this is what happened. One-shot for now, but that could change.

Bernd goes into heat on Christmas Eve.

It doesn't start slow, it never does, it just slams into him when he's in the kitchen cobbling together a meal that's a far cry from his mother’s normal holiday feast. He hasn't even turned the oven on yet but the kitchen’s boiling all of a sudden and his clothes need to come off, _now_. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, moaning as the soft fabric caresses his chest. Bernd hates this, hates all of it, especially hates how much he's going to enjoy its inevitable conclusion. It's not _fair._

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. Bernd licks his lips and tries to breathe.

*

Marc is full of stollen and ready to call it a successful holiday when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He gives his father an apologetic smile and reaches for it, expecting a Christmas message from a friend or a teammate.

Instead it's a selfie from Bernd.

Bernd’s flushed and sweaty, with his eyes blown so wide only a faint ring of color remains around his pupils. His chest is blotchy red and Marc can't see his hands. 

_ how soon can u get here _

Marc has to take a second to concentrate on not popping a boner in front of his family. Of fucking course Bernd would have to go into heat  _ now,  _ at the most inconvenient time outside a Champion’s League final.

_ u can't ask one of ur leverkusen buddies? _

He regrets the text as soon as he sends it. He doesn't want another Alpha seeing Bernd through heat; they're not bonded or anything and he's got no claim on Bernd beyond history and familiarity, but the thought makes his bristle furiously. 

_ nm. don't call them. omw _

_ don't tell me what to do ter stegen _

Good. If Bernd’s still coherent enough to be a shit about this, Marc should be able to get to him before the heat gets too out of control. 

*

It's a good thing he did laundry yesterday, Bernd muses as he draws his knees back, because he's so wet already and it's only just getting started. The angle sucks but he presses two fingers inside himself and sighs. It's not enough, not nearly enough, but it's better than nothing at all. He’ll be full when Marc gets here.

Marc. Marc will take care of him.  _ Marc.  _ God, since when did his stupid Omega brain get such a complex about his biggest rival? Just because Marc’s been helping Bernd with his heats for years doesn't mean it's a thing, or anything. Marc, who smells like spices and summer grass and always, always has something smart to say, because god forbid Bernd ever get a moment’s peace. He’ll have to blow him to shut him up, bend over just right so Marc can play with his ass while Bernd sucks him off-

The thought almost sends him over the edge, but not quite. Bernd needs an Alpha for that, and the bastard isn't here yet. He moans. Come on, ter Stegen,  _ come on. _

*

Marc barely rings the buzzer before Bernd’s door opens and the smell of heated Omega hits him like a freight train. There’s Bernd, eyes glassy, wrapped in a slick-stained sheet that does little to hide his arousal. He’s a mess and it makes Marc’s mouth water. 

“Get- get the fuck in here,” Bernd mutters, pulling Marc inside.

He goes eagerly.

*

The sheer force of Alpha, of  _ Marc,  _ soothes Bernd and makes him burn that much hotter. He’s just coherent enough to smell cinnamon undercut with fresh turf and just a hint of goalie gear; the scent makes him moan and sends a fresh trickle of slick down his thighs. Dimly he registers the sheet slipping out of his grasp and Marc’s eyes darkening before his back hits the wall.

Bernd moans and pulls at Marc’s clothes. Why is he wearing clothes? The moan turns to a growl when he can’t reach bare skin.

“Fuck you, ter Stegen, come on-”

Marc just laughs and shoves two fingers into him. It’s no more than Bernd was doing to himself, but he instantly feels better. He clenches around Marc’s fingers, partly to make a point and partly for his own enjoyment. 

Marc chuckles into his neck. Bernd bites him It’s not  _ funny,  _ damnit, he’s been alone with his heat for what feels like forever and Marc isn’t fucking him yet. Marc should be fucking him-

*

The pain spurs Marc on and reminds him why he’s here. There’s an Omega in heat; it’s his duty to take care of them. He pulls his fingers out of Bernd, tries to ignore the desperate frustrated sound he gets in response, and rips his jeans open. 

They need a bed. There’s not enough time to make it to Bernd’s bed. 

Marc acts fast. Years of goalkeeping reflexes help him spin Bernd around and pin him flush against the wall. He nips Bernd’s neck and growls, a warning to hold still while he frees his cock. 

_ “Marc-” _

He doesn’t let Bernd finish the sentence. 

*

Bernd yells when Marc slams into him. His fingers scrabble against the wall, clenching and unclenching as his body struggles to process finally being full. Marc feels huge and unyielding inside him and Bernd could cry with how good it is. Instead he bites his lip and forces the sound down.

He can’t help the whimper as Marc sets up a hard pace and fucks him with no hesitation. God,  _ finally.  _

“Alpha, please.  _ Please. _ ”

Marc’s scent turns smug. “That’s not my name,” he says, and Bernd groans. 

“God, fine,  _ Marc,  _ fuck you,  _ fuck  _ you, don’t make me wait anymore, need you-”

*

Instantly Marc’s hit with a twinge of guilt. He’s supposed to be taking care of his Omega and not making fun of him, even if it is Bernd. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Bernd’s back stiffens, his scent souring for a moment at the proffered comfort. They don’t do this. They fight, they trade barbs, and when Bernd goes into heat, they fuck. Niceties don’t play a role. It doesn’t matter that Marc’s never been with another Omega and never catches another Alpha’s scent on Bernd whenever they see each other. He’s been with Betas, he knows Bernd has too. It’s not the same. 

“I’ve got you,” he says again, and picks up his pace.

*

Bernd yowls. It’s a dumb noise, a really dumb noise, but he can’t help it, not with Marc fucking him so well, and, and,  _ saying  _ things. Christ, Leno, what’s next? Purring?

He stops caring. He feels too good to give a damn about anything else.

Bernd shakes his head. He’s so close. His body’s a mess of fire and electric need; he was made for this, made to be fucked and kept and protected and kept by his Alpha, to give his all and get everything in return. He’s going to come. He’s going to-

*

Marc shudders as Bernd’s scent thickens with ozone and anticipation. He’s so hot around Marc’s cock, tight and perfect and only getting better. He clamps down like a vice when he comes and that’s all it takes for Marc to follow.

The orgasm pulses through him but it doesn’t stop. Marc’s swelling inside Bernd, getting thicker-

Oh, fuck, he’s knotting. 

This is another thing they don’t do, since Alphas only knot Omegas they want to bond. Everything, from hormones to desire, has to be compatible. Bernd is going to kill him.

It feels too good to stop and Marc couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He’s an Alpha, designed to find his Omega and breed them, keep them safe and make a family. Any second Bernd’s going to realize what’s happening and freak out.

Any second now. 

*

God, he’s so full. Bernd sighs happily and shifts his hips back against his Alpha. The world feels quieter and a little hazy, like they’re the only two people awake this late on Christmas Eve. Through his half-closed eyes he sees snow falling outside. 

Bernd’s heat cools down to a low simmer and he’s content to stay just like this, filled with his Alpha’s come and surrounded by his scent. A strong hand cups his neck and gently tilts his head back, then soft lips find the side of his throat. Good, yes, good Alpha, caring for him while they’re knotted. They’ll bond soon. The thought sends a pleasant shiver through him and he pulls at his Alpha’s shirt, eager for more skin-to-skin contact. They can’t be close enough right now.

Rustling fabric, some fumbling, then a broad chest pressing close to his back. Bernd lets his head fall onto his Alpha’s shoulder. He’s safe and wanted here. It’s perfect. 

*

Marc looks around. His Omega- no,  _ Bernd,  _ needs a place to rest comfortably while they’re knotted, and Bernd’s bed is too far away to try and shuffle the all the way there. Shit, he doesn’t even have food prepared or anything, never mind that they’re in Bernd’s house and this has never happened before. 

Bernd makes a questioning sound. Marc rubs his back. “Shh. We’re going to go lay on the couch now, okay?”

“Mm, ‘kay.”

Some time in the future Marc might look back at this and laugh. Right now, though, trying to maneuver both himself and a very pliant-yet-unhelpful Bernd over to the couch without any damage is far from funny. This...is not how any of this is supposed to go. He’s supposed to have a nest made up with comfy blankets and his O-  _ Bernd, damnit, Bernd’s _ favorite foods and plenty of water nearby. Instead they’re doing some godawful parody of a mating dance with Marc leading by bruising his shins on the coffee table.

He gets jarred with every step and it makes his knot move in Bernd’s body, leaving him overstimulated and feeling even more like a shitty Alpha.

Bernd shakes his head, hard, and it jerks Marc out of his thoughts.

“Good Alpha. Knew you’d be good.”

*

If it’s reassurance his Alpha needs, Bernd will give it to him. He goes happily to the couch and snuggles right back against his Alpha’s chest when they get settled, stopping only to pull a blanket over them. 

His Alpha makes a choked noise behind him, but his hand comes to rest low on Bernd’s stomach. He purrs at the contact. 

“See? Good Alpha. Warm, comfortable,” he clenches around the knot inside him, “full.”

*

In spite of himself Marc nods and buries his nose in Bernd’s hair. He smells so good, like late summer rain and sweet buttery shortbread. He smells like heat and care and everything good in the universe.

It’s can’t last. The second Bernd snaps out of this, there’s going to be hell to pay.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP. By popular demand and by the plot bunnies' will, here's another chapter. Enjoy!

Bernd wakes up before he opens his eyes. It’s nice here, safe and warm on the couch with his Alpha’s arms around him. He’s full, full of his Alpha like he’s meant to be.

Wait.

_WHAT?!_

Panic takes over and he surges forward only to cry out in pain as the knot inside him stays put. Marc (shit, _Marc)_ yells and grabs him by the hips.

“Quit it, we can’t go anywhere yet.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to quit it, ter Stegen, your knot is in my-”

“Stay. _Still,”_ Marc growls, and punctuates it with a bite to Bernd’s neck. “You’re gonna rip my dick off.”

*

Bernd’s scent twists into something sour and indignant. it rankles Marc even as the voice in his head urges him to soothe it back to sweetness. His Omega is supposed to be content while they’re knotted-

Except Bernd isn’t his.

Marc huffs and tries to get comfortable. His knot has to go down soon.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know this would happen, obviously.”

“No shit, because you _obviously_ didn’t plan on telling me you love me _before we knotted!”_

“I’m not in love with you!” Marc sputters.

“Oh really?” Bernd clenches down hard and Marc has to bite his lip not to cry out. “You wanna try that again? You wouldn’t be able to knot in me if you didn’t.”

Dimly, through the taste of blood in his mouth and the rising panic in his gut, Marc catches himself drumming his fingers on Bernd’s stomach. He forces his hand to be still. Shit. _Shit._ Bernd already knows too much, all because his Alpha instincts like to go lizard brain at the worst possible moments.

Sex is fine. Everything else is forbidden.

“It just means our hormones think we’re compatible for bonding,” says Marc lamely. “Not that I- uh. Love you, or anything.”

*

Marc’s scent dampens, a dead giveaway he’s lying. Bernd clenches down again to reinforce his point, but it just makes them both groan. Fuck, he’s getting warm again.

“You bastard. You sat through every single one of Jogi’s horrible designation lectures, didn’t you learn anything about caring for your Omega during heat? There’s no food ready! What about proper hydration? Where’s my blanket fort?”

“ _Blanket fort?!”_

“Yes, damnit, I want a blanket fort where I can rest comfortably in between bouts-”

“‘Bouts,’” Marc snorts. “Right.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

Bernd shivers as Marc finally slips out of him. He stands up and lets the blanket fall to the ground. Great, another thing to throw in the laundry once all this is done. He stretches, pausing when he sees Marc watching him.

“What?”

*

Marc stares. “You said MY Omega.”

Bernd shoots him a deadpan look, the one that means he thinks Marc’s an idiot. “Yes, and?”

“All this shit, about me being in love with you, and you’re not gonna say it back?”

Bernd turns pink and his scent picks up a mortified tinge. Marc nods, triumphant. “You love me, asshole.”

“So what if I do?” challenges Bernd. “What difference does it make? At least I can fucking _admit it.”_

“Really? Because I don’t hear you saying a word.”

Marc shakes his head with a derisive noise, then sniffs the air. The sour edge is gone; Bernd smells mostly normal again, warm and temporarily sated. His chest is still blotchy red and there’s a crease on his cheek from napping on the couch. The corner of Marc’s heart labeled ‘Bernd’ and ‘OFF LIMITS’ twists. So what if they’ve kind-of-sort-of-not-really talked about it? It doesn’t mean anything yet.

Bernd stands up, and all of Marc’s attention goes right to his inner thighs. Bernd’s a mess, covered in slick and come, irrefutable proof he’s been fucked properly.

*

Marc growls, and it takes all of Bernd’s self-control not to flop down and spread his legs. If he asks, Marc will take care of him. All he has to do is ask to be fucked again.

Instead he takes a step back.

*

“No. Come here.”

To his surprise Bernd actually listens. His skin is hot under Marc’s hands, scent spiking as he lets himself be maneuvered into a sitting position. Marc’s on his knees in an instant, crouching between Bernd’s legs and ducking his head to taste the remnants of their coupling. Bernd’s hands come right to his hair to hold him close; Marc makes a low approving sound and keeps going, desperate for every drop that proves he did his job and satisfied his Omega.

It’s not enough.

Marc hooks Bernd’s legs over his shoulders and thanks every god he can for goalie flexibility as he folds Bernd back against the couch.

*

Bernd whines. He’s hot all over, too hot, and Marc is teasing him again. He shifts, trying to get into a more presentable position so Marc will hurry up and fuck him but no, Marc’s just opening him up and-

“ _Ohmygod-”_

The first swipe of Marc’s tongue punches the air right out of his lungs. Nothing about this should be sexy; he’s folded like a gangly pretzel and his head is half-shoved into the couch cushions but it feels like Marc is eating him alive. His whole world is heat and sensation and Bernd can’t bring himself to be embarrassed at how exposed he is. He’s an _Omega,_ damnit. His Alpha is damn luck to have him and should be worshipping him like the treasure he is.

It feels good. It feels fucking incredible, actually, but it’s not what Bernd _needs._ That doesn’t stop him from tugging viciously on Marc’s hair to hold him in place.

“More.”

*

As if Marc could say no. His senses are consumed by Bernd; he’s never felt like this before, never wanted to make Bernd feel good for pleasure’s sake instead of to prove a point.

He looks up and makes eye contact, holding Bernd’s gaze as he licks from the top of Bernd’s tailbone all the way down to the sensitive skin behind his balls. On a whim Marc turns his face and sucks a bruise into Bernd’s thigh. This is _his,_ damnit, his Omega, his to claim and care for and he’s tired of pretending. Christ, how did this happen? He keeps his face against Bernd’s thigh and tries to breathe.

Bernd yanks on his hair again. “Alpha,” he says in that same honey-slow voice from earlier when they were knotted, “Alpha, I’m hot.”

Marc nods. He can see it, in Bernd’s wide eyes and the flush on his cheeks. His Omega needs him.

*

“I’m right here.”

Bernd shivers. It takes a second longer than normal to parse the words, but his Alpha is here. He’ll get what he needs.

Or so he thinks, until he’s pulled to his feet. Bernd whines and tries to get back down on the couch so he can present himself to be fucked, but his Alpha stops him.

“Come on. Let’s get you upstairs, huh? There’s a bed upstairs,” he wheedles, and even through the haze of his desire Bernd can see the logic of it. His Alpha wants them in bed, where they’ll have more room.

Plus, their scents will mingle all over the sheets, he’ll be able to roll in it, cover himself in it…

Bernd all but runs up the stairs.

*

It’s not like Marc’s never been in Bernd’s room before, but he’s never seen Bernd kicking stray clothes under the bed and practically slamming drawers shut in his haste to tidy up. It’s classic Omega behavior, keeping the home as a way of honoring their Alpha and what they make together. Marc watches with a dopey smile on his face.

Shit, he _is_ in love.

“Here, it’s fine,” he tells Bernd, and catches his arm mid-throw as a shirt sails towards the hamper. “This is fine, really. It’s perfect.”

Bernd turns wide eyes on him, chest heaving with deep breaths, then he beams so brightly it takes Marc’s breath away.

He gets it back only to lose it again when Bernd shoves him back on the mattress and clambers on top of him, fumbling for Marc’s cock. A moment, chaos, long limbs everywhere, then heat, oh god, _heat,_ Bernd, taking Marc like he was made for it.

*

Someone’s yelling.

It takes Bernd a moment to realize the noise came from him, throaty and satisfied at finally, finally being full again. Time is doing that funny thing of slowing down and speeding up; he wants to stay like this forever but he needs to move, because the sooner he moves, the sooner he can-

He lifts halfway off his Alpha’s cock, rolling his hips to take it deep again. His Alpha makes a low satisfied sound and grabs his hips to show him how to move, yes, he can follow his Alpha’s rhythm and make them both feel so good. He’ll show his Alpha how good he can be.

“Alpha, please, I need...”

“What?”

“I-”

Bernd gives up on talking and tilts his head back. His Alpha will know what to do.

*

Marc can barely think enough to try and make sense of Bernd’s pleas. Everything about him, from the inviting scent to his offered throat and the tight wet heat  like a sin straight from heaven, begs Marc to bond with him here and now.

They can’t, though. His lizard brain isn’t running _that_ much of the show here, thank god.

“I know,” he murmurs, meeting Bernd’s gaze, “I know, Omega, I know, and I will. I want to.”

Bernd whines, fucking himself down harder. His scent is almost overwhelming now, warm with a sweet smoky note that makes Marc growl in contentment. Bernd smells like the place he wants to be forever. Like home. It would be so easy to rear up, sink his teeth into Bernd’s neck-

*

Bernd yelps when his Alpha shoves him off. He’s empty suddenly and it feels _wrong,_ until he’s filled again from behind, his Alpha maneuvering between his spread legs and driving back into him at a furious pace.

“Mine,” his Alpha says, and Bernd can only nod. He’s desperate to feel his Alpha spill in him again, fill him and keep him forever. Please. _Please._

He comes with a shout, feeling his Alpha come too, deep and hot inside him just the way he needs. Bernd’s crying now, overwhelmed and overstimulated as his Alpha’s knot rends him fuller still, but his Alpha just holds him close and whispers to him, mouthing at a spot high on his neck.

*

“Right here,” Marc murmurs against Bernd’s skin. “I know right where I’m gonna put your bond mark, right here so no one ever misses it.”

He rolls them onto their sides and pulls Bernd against him, using his feet to kick up the blankets and wrap them up tight.

*

So this is afterglow, Bernd thinks to himself, then falls asleep in his Alpha’s arms.

*

“Marc.”

He doesn’t answer. He’s not anywhere near awake yet and Bernd smells far too happy to be in any distress.

“Marc. Marc-Andre. Ter Stegen. Ter Stegosaurus.”

He cracks one eye open and fixes the back of Bernd’s head with a glare. “What.”

“I’m hungry.”

Marc groans.  


End file.
